


Da Capo

by Hxstia



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Ladynoir July, Poor Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Rejection, Short & Sweet, ok not sweet it's angsty but it gets better!, pre-reveal, still counts?, well it's more marichat really but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 22:57:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19895740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hxstia/pseuds/Hxstia
Summary: It's in her smile, her glances, in every line of her body, and yet he dares to hope, to pretend otherwise. But when the words are spoken and Chat can deny it no longer, he turns to a friendly face and wonders if starting over is really such a bad thing after all.





	Da Capo

_Da Capo; to repeat from the beginning and stop on the final chord_

* * *

"I love you." He whispers, and he almost hopes she doesn't hear it, hopes that the wind would carry it far, far away. But she does. And she turns.

"I love you too." She manages, eyes wide and blue and sincere as the day he met her, but he sees the apology in its midst. And he knows. They both know.

_~~His smile shatters her.~~ _

"Just not the way I love you."

It isn't a question.

_~~Her silence shatters him.~~ _

She shifts her weight anxiously, fidgeting in a way that is completely out of place for the spotted heroine of Paris. She's lost the roundness of her cheeks to the years and the now slender lines of her jaw do little to mask the tension she's struggling to swallow. The brave, honest blue is wavering as it meets his green, threatening to spill over with viscous, oozing guilt.

He almost laughs.

Seven years later and she's still the most adorable woman he's ever met.

He bids her an entirely too jubilant goodbye and bounds off into the night before she can say anything. Or at least anything he could hear. Personally, she thinks he doesn't want to hear it. Doesn't want to hear _her_. But she knows who he does.

* * *

The midnight-drenched city is unusually silent, so when the soft thud of a dulled-landing reaches her ears, she knows he's arrived. She takes off her mask and dons another, careful to school her features into calm neutrality.

She doesn't wait for his knock, and she doesn't want to hear his explanation. The moment he tumbles in without the slightest hint of grace, he's in her arms.

And then they crumple.

And then they fall.

She doesn't ask questions.

She doesn't even speak.

Her fingers weave through his golden tresses, providing a comfort words couldn't.

In that moment, he whispers a quiet thank you- not for her silence, not even for her touch. He thanks her for her very existence.

She knows he isn't crying-otherwise, her shirt would be soaked through. But he does tremble. Violently. To know that she, or rather her alter ego, has managed to so thoroughly destroy him, her very best friends, makes her wonder why she has any to begin with.

A small part of her had hoped that maybe, just maybe, he'd be fine. A small, desperate, stupid part of her had prayed for that right up till the moment his body found hers.

Of course he would be hurting.

No sane person wouldn't be.

But his smile had been so bright. So seamless. She could almost manage to convince herself it was real.

She wonders how often those boundless grins hid something darker.

She wonders how often she's the one to cause them.

She wants to let the tears welling up in her own eyes fall, beg for forgiveness, do something- anything.

But no.

How can she cry, when he doesn't?

No.

There would be time to wallow in guilt later. Right now he needed her to be strong when he was not.

She could do that.

She could do that one simple task that her partner, her best friend, needed of her.

She would be his life buoy, and she would let him sink no further.

* * *

He only realises how much time has passed when her breathing goes shallow, falling into a different pattern. Hoisting himself up slowly, he finds her eyelids sealed shut. He also finds himself in his pajamas.

"She fell asleep before the detransformation." A small voice pipes up. He doesn't respond.

A ghost of a smile nips at his lips as he gently pulls her sleeping form into his arms, delivering her to her bed. Having already ruined her night, he doesn't want her to wake up with a back ache either from snoozing on the hard wood floor.

He's done enough damage already as it was.

The curl of his lips softens as he takes her in one more time. His saviour. His princess. It was funny how it was the shy designer who'd coined the term princess, and yet it was the masked hero that had become the damsel in distress. She truly was a gem among stones. He wishes he told her that more often.

His lips brush against her cheek in appreciation, just like hers had his oh so many nights ago. Sometimes when he thought about it, he could still feel the whisper of her innocence, the touch of her kindness. Brave, beautiful, Marinette. His saving grace right from day one.

She never left his thoughts- not even after he'd bundled her up in her sheets and taken off into the night.

And as the homeless boy lay in his house of cards, he thinks,

Maybe it's time to _**begin again**_.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over 3 years ago and quite frankly I forgot all about it after I ditched ff.net, but I decided that I liked this piece too much to let it rot away in my documents. I don't know if I'll be adding on to this as it's been a hot minute since I've written a fic, but who knows right? 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and comments are always appreciated!


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